Last night was the last dinner club meeting  for our particular group, and I had made the theme of food with a story. Since I enjoy both food and hearing and telling stories, I figured it would make the night more comfortable and enjoyable for everyone involved. And, at least by my somewhat biased opinion, I think that was indeed the case. Admittedly, the dinner got off to a somewhat late start, so I think in retrospect that it was good that I made a stealthy exit from services and made sure that everyone was coming, because by the time the chicken parmesan was finished and the garlic bread was toasted in the oven, it was already well after 6PM. Fortunately for everyone involved, there was still plenty of time to both eat and talk under those circumstances.
And so we did. As the “host,” I opened up the storytelling with two stories, one about the chicken paremsan and how it showed my overachieving nature in junior high school, and the other one about the salad and my love of alfalfa sprouts and the difficulty of finding them, as I have previously discussed here. This telling of stories opened up stories from other people about their work, about the sermon from our pastor, as well as about the issue of submission to authority in the workplace and its implications for the empathy of men for women. There were a few pauses in the conversation, but overall things worked out well, and it was nearly 10PM by the time the dinner was over and everyone was headed home or headed to bed.
Of particular note was that I wanted to make sure the night ended with one more story. My mother and one of the other people at the dinner have similar job experiences and I wanted them to share stories about that experience as a way of developing a greater familiarity, and so it was that I was able to share a story about my father’s attempt at a downward modification of child support that nearly went very awry because of a change of standards in how much income was garnished for child support. At any rate, once the stories were shared it was time for everyone to go home and go to bed. This afternoon I got a text from one of the other people at the dinner and she appreciated getting to know us all a lot better, which was something that pleased me. I have always tended to enjoy sharing a meal with people, as it is one of the less awkward social occasions I can find myself in, being a person of fairly high anxiety on a regular basis, and most relaxed with good food and good conversation.
The title of this blog, of course, comes from the title track to the third album by Peter Cetera. The song is one of those where the singer talks about his daughter’s desire for one more story before she goes to bed. The album itself was moderately successful, most notably for its hit single “One Good Woman,” although the title track was not a hit. Some people want to hear one more story before they sleep and some people feel it necessary to tell one more story before their eyes will allow them to drift off into the world of dreams. Whether we are the people who need to hear or tell, or perhaps both sometimes, depends on a great many factors, but so it is that sometimes one can both hear and tell and so everyone can be satisfied based on their own preferences in the matter.
 See, for example: